Abacus

leg bones. Running back to the control panel, the captor stopped the conveyor and again reversed it out of the furnace.
    The scorched and smoking felon slowly appeared from the furnace, screaming uncontrollably. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair was overwhelming. His bald and blistering head tilted down. He stared in horror down at his blistering body. The lower half of his body was now unrecognizable. His legs and feet were now devoid of flesh replaced by a bony skeletal framework. He had come straight from hell.
    “Now don’t go passing out on me,” his captor urged. “We have the finale coming up.”
    A chilling scream preceded the felon passing out.
    He woke up to the sensation of water being thrown over his face.
    “Welcome back. I told you not to pass out. But you did, didn’t you? Anyway, I bet you thought it was all just a nightmare and you would wake up in your bed all safe and sound. Well this is reality, baby. Look at those bony legs of yours.”
    The tape was again tugged from his mouth.
    Now resigned to his fate he begged, “Just fucking end it. Just fucking kill me, will you.”
    “Okay, okay , patience, please. Now you’re here because you treat women badly, but there are plenty of pieces of crap like you out there who do that. The real reason why you’re here is, unfortunately, you have been nominated.”
    “What do you mean nominated!” he yelled hysterically.
    “T here is really no point explaining it to you now, Kel. It is too late for you. In minutes you won’t exist, so it would be a total waste of breath on my part. Anyway, bon voyage and I’ll see you on the other side, Kel.” Uncontrollable laughter echoed through the building as the switch was flicked a final time. He looked across to see his captor smile and wave a final goodbye.
    *
    With the fight now out of him, the felon’s forlorn figure lay perfectly still as he entered the furnace.
    The captor wa lked to the second viewing porthole where the body had left the conveyor and now lay in the centre of the furnace. The gas flames producing sixteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit beat down on his chest, quickly melting him. The hair and skin was seen to quickly scorch, char and burn. The underlying bright yellow fat sizzled all over his body and ran down his sides, pooling on the floor of the furnace.
    Next the muscles in the arms contracted, slowly drawing up and in to cover the chest. The blackened fingers then balled into a fist and the now bright white skull tilted slightly forward to complete the “Pugilist Pose”. As the music reached a crescendo, the stomach burst open with the yellowy liquid contents sizzling all over the viewing window.
    Over the next hour the felon was reduced to a small pile of dust, bone and a warped belt buckle.

    CHAPTER 12 - THE HEAD

    Today was Saturday, and this particular Saturday was a special one. Randall had his kids over for the whole weekend. He had been looking forward to this weekend for some time.
    “I’m doing the world’s best hot breckie , guys,” he called to his kids who were still in bed. “You’d betta get out here or it will be gone. Arnold’s pretty hungry.” Randall looked down at his expectant Jack Russell terrier who was licking his lips as the bacon sizzled. Arnold loved the big breckie, and he knew that if he was patient, he would get the leftover scraps at the end. Arnold was a shared dog. When Randall worked late his elderly neighbours would look after him. He would come and go as he pleased through the doggy door built into side boundary fence.
    “We’re coming,” yelled his son Tim.
    “Jane , are you getting up?” he called impatiently.
    “Yeah , Dad, coming.”
    Randall had a big day planned for his kids. Later that morning they were going to watch Tim play rugby league, and if he was still in a fit state they were going to catch a movie together. The aroma of the served up breakfast seemed to lure the kids from their rooms to the outdoor table.
    Randall passed Tim his plate. “This should give you plenty of go for the big game today, Timmy.”
    “ Thanks, Dad,” he said, shoving a crispy piece of bacon into his mouth.
    “And you , my dear, this should put some meat on those skinny bones of yours,” Randall said squeezed her spindly arms. “Anyway, how’s your mum going?” Randall asked as he heaped sauce onto his meal.
    “Good,” they both replied in unison with mouths full.
    “How ’ bout the bean counter?” he asked of their